


Of Snakes and Stones

by FlightsOfDragons



Series: Like Fighting Snakes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Bullying, Everyone hates Slytherins, Gen, Good Slytherins, Prejudice, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin vs. Everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlightsOfDragons/pseuds/FlightsOfDragons
Summary: This is my take on the events of the Philosopher's Stone had Harry been sorted into Slytherin.





	1. The Sorting Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Much of this is taken directly from the book. Partly inspired by "Harriet Potter Is" by setepenre_set.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in Harry’s ear. “Difficult. Very Difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting…. So where shall I put you?”

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin._

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Why not?”

Harry thought back to Hagrid in Diagon Alley saying _There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin._

“Well that’s just not true,” said the voice, “Every house has produced it’s own number of dark wizards.”

Harry thought of Malfoy, sneering at Hagrid in Diagon, demeaning Ron Weasley, calling him “the wrong sort,” and disparaging his own parents on the train.

“All the more reason to put you in Slytherin, you could be a good influence there, just as they could be a good influence on you – foster your cleverness, perhaps curb your reckless nature.”

The voice went on, “You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head. Whether it’s great like Merlin or great like Voldemort is up to you. Yes – better be SLYTHERIN!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward Slytherin table. He was so dismayed at being put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. An older girl with sleek brown hair got up and shook his hand vigorously, while someone yelled “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

He looked back at Ron, who seemed startled and apprehensive. As he sat down, he could see the High Table properly. He met eyes with an unsettled-looking Hagrid, who gave him a tight, unconvincing smile.

“Guess you’ll be hanging around better company after all,” Malfoy smirked from a couple seats down.

“You’re obviously not talking about yourself,” Harry replied before the hat declared “Thomas, Dean,” a Gryffindor.

“Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. He put the hat on and a moment later it had shouted “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry stared longingly at the Gryffindor table as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Percy Weasley among the congratulating applause. Harry clapped listlessly as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry looked down at his empty plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties on the train seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

“Is he – a bit mad?” he asked the older girl next to him.

“Mad?” she said airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard of the modern age! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes?”

Harry’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he’s never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything and began to eat. It was all delicious.

“It really is good food,” said the girl next to him. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? My name’s Gemma Farley. I’m a sixth year, and a prefect.”

“What does a prefect do?” asked a spindly, fawn-haired boy.

“Theodore Nott, right?”

He nodded.

“A prefect is a student leader,” Gemma said. “We watch over our fellow students, especially the younger ones, and make sure nobody’s getting into trouble. Don’t be afraid to come to me if you have questions or need help! I’m always willing to offer whatever advice I can.”

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, and the remains of the food had faded from the plates, the desserts appeared. Though Harry had eaten so much he felt sick, he couldn’t resist helping himself to a treacle tart. As the talk turned to their families, with Draco Malfoy boasting about coming from an ancient line of pure-blood wizards.

“You won’t find a single muggle or mudblood anywhere in my family tree, no matter how far back you look,” he declared proudly, seemingly oblivious to the pointed glares he was receiving from several of his classmates.

“What about you, Millicent?” a blonde, bespectacled girl asked of a hefty, black-haired girl.

“Everyone knows the Bulstrodes are a pure-blood family, Tracey” sniffed a dark-haired, pug-faced girl with a look of disdain.

“Actually, Pansy, I’m a half-blood.” Millicent corrected.

“A shame such a pure line has sullied itself with such filth,” Malfoy scoffed.

“Aw, what’s the matter, couldn’t stand the attention not being on you for five seconds?” Millicent mocked, “You don’t have to stoop to such insults, you know.”

As the conversation on his left devolved into sarcastic, snarky bickering, Harry turned his attention to the conversation on his other side, where Gemma Farley was talking to a dark-haired boy.

He learned that the boy’s name was Terence Higgs, and that he was giving up his position as Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team this year to focus on his new prefect duties and studying for his “owls.”

“Why do your owls need you to study?” Harry asked.

Gemma and Terence laughed and Harry immediately felt himself flush in embarrassment.

“O-W-L Exams. It stands for Ordinary Wizarding Level. People usually just call them O.W.L.s though. They’re important exams that every student takes in their fifth year.” Terence explained.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

“He’s not serious?” he muttered to Gemma.

“Must be,” said Gemma, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere – the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least.”

After the school song had been sung, the Slytherin first years followed Gemma through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and through a door past the marble staircase. This led down stone steps, deep into the dungeons. Harry was glad they were travelling down the stairs instead of up, because his legs felt like lead again, if only because he was so tired and full of food. They went through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and tapestries, and down more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet.

Gemma turned to the group of first years as they stopped in front of a bare stretch of stone wall.

“To get into the Slytherin common rooms, you have to say the password to this specific wall.”

She turned to the wall.

_ “Caligo.”_

The concealed door slid to the side, and she called back to the group as they entered, “The password changes every two weeks. Keep an eye on the noticeboard here in the common room. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password.”

They found themselves in a long, low room. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins covered much of the rough stone walls. Hung on chains from the stone ceilings were round, greenish lamps which, paired with the huge windows that looked out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake, gave the room a rather green tinge.

Two low-backed, black, button-tufted leather sofas sat facing each other on either side of a dark wooden coffee table, directly in front of the large fireplace, where a fire crackled beneath the elaborately carved mantelpiece. Elegantly carved chairs surrounded a large, round table, a large chandelier above it.

Dark wood cupboards lined the back wall, decorated with skulls and silver serpent ornaments. A few green sofas and chairs formed sitting areas, and one of the smaller wooden tables had a Wizard's Chess set on it.

The whole of the Slytherin common room had a grand atmosphere, like that of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck.

When the hidden door slid closed behind the last of them, Gemma addressed the group:

“There are some things you need to know about Slytherin. I know you’re tired right now, so we’ll have a House meeting in the common room tomorrow evening.

“This meeting is _mandatory_ for first years,” she stressed.

“The things I’ll tell you then are crucial for your survival at Hogwarts. For now, stick together and have each other’s backs – always stay in groups of three outside of the dungeons.”

The girls were then directed up one side of the split staircase to their dormitory and the boys up the other. At the end of the hallway, they found their beds at last: six four-posters hung with green silk hangings, and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Silver lanterns hung from the ceilings. Their trunks had already been brought up.

After pulling on his pajamas and falling into bed, Harry fell asleep almost at once, listening to the soothing sound of lake water lapping against the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins. This is the first fanfic I've ever posted. I hope you enjoy it.


	2. So You're a Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns some important lessons in his first week of classes.

Heeding Gemma Farley’s advice, Harry travelled with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode to their classes. Blaise was a tall, handsome, dark skinned boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes. He was reserved, with an easy-going self-confidence. Millicent was the hefty half-blood girl with a heavy, jutting jaw. She was nearly a head taller than him, and even a few centimeters taller than Blaise. Harry got on well with her, as she seemed to be just as audacious as himself.

The castle was a maze of staircases and hallways, with vanishing steps and trick doors. Not only was Harry sure it would have been difficult to find your way normally, but it all seemed to move around a lot.

He had assumed this was the reason Gemma told them to stick together, because they were new and it might be harder to get lost with several people remembering where to go. However, he saw students from other houses travelling alone and realized that even the upperclassmen of Slytherin stuck to groups of at least three.

During a break between classes, they milled in the hallways, running into a few other Slytherins. Blaise was talking to Theodore Nott when Harry spotted Ron. As he made for his friend, Ron gave him a wary look of suspicion before walking faster.

“Ron!” Harry called, following him down a hallway. Ron ignored him and he lost him at the next turn.

Confused and hurt, Harry turned around and headed back toward his housemates. However, as he rounded the corner he discovered Millicent, alone, cornered by two second-year Hufflepuffs.

“It’s no wonder a fat pig like you would get sorted into Slytherin,” one was saying. “Slytherins do anything to get out of doing actual, honest work.”

Millicent shoved them back, rage evident on her face as Harry came forward, yelling “Hey! Leave her alone!”

“Oh look, it’s the new, up-and-coming dark lord,” the other Hufflepuff spat at Harry.

“Here for your flunky, baby dark lord?” the first one jeered.

“Leave.” Blaise said, having come back from wherever he went.

The Hufflepuffs turned to see Blaise behind them, hand on his wand. Realizing that they were now outnumbered, they left, sneering, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Harry and Blaise watched them leave. As soon as they were out of sight, tears began streaming down Millicent’s face as she crumbled. Harry ran to her.

“Hey there, it’s alright, we’re here and they’re gone now, we won’t let them bother you again,” Harry said.

He reached up to wipe her tears with his sleeve. Blaise spoke up quietly as Millicent’s sniffles died down.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t think… I won’t leave again.”

But Harry was still confused. “Why did they call me an ‘up-and-coming dark lord’?”

“Some people think you survived as a baby because you must be a great dark wizard. The fact that you were sorted into the same house as You-Know-Who is a confirmation of that in their eyes,” Blaise answered.

Harry was shocked that people could think that.

In the evening, after dinner, they all went back to the common room. Gemma Farley and some of the others were sitting at the large, round table by the windows side of the common room. Harry took a seat next to Millicent, who was petting the black cat sitting on her lap.

As everyone settled down, Gemma started speaking.

“I wanted to give you all the official welcome to Slytherin. Once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours – one of the elite. You’ve been chosen for this house because you’ve got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. And if you think some people you see hanging around the common room might not be destined for anything special, well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there’s something great about them, and don’t you forget it.

“Unfortunately, people fear power. So they separate all of the most powerful children from their peers and send them to live down in a dungeon. We’re like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful… and frequently misunderstood. You might have heard rumors about Slytherin house – don’t believe everything you hear from the competition.

“We have a Dark reputation, yes. And we’ve produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three houses – they just don’t like admitting it. Here’s another little-known fact that the other three houses don’t bring up much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very house!”

She smiled as surprise crossed the faces of many at the table.

Then her tone turned serious.

“We are not bad people, but we are still treated with suspicion and hatred. Because of this, you might run into bullies. Always be vigilant; always be prepared. Keep a hand on your wand and stick together. Remember, unlike some other houses, we Slytherins look after our own.”

She brightened back up again.

“Anyways, how were your first day of classes?”

As the topic turned to stories of getting lost, annoyance at Peeves, and opinions of different classes, Harry thought of his own experience with prejudice.

Shame rose in him as he thought of his own initial prejudice against Slytherin house. He had based his opinions of people like Millicent on the actions of people like Malfoy. He resolved not to make the same mistake again. He planned to confront Ron as well, because surely the boy had the same preconceived notions as Harry had had.

Tracey Davis, a smaller, blonde, bespectacled girl joined him, Blaise, and Millicent between classes on the grounds that she was cross with Daphne for mocking her half-blood status. Harry finally managed to corner Ron during a break, cutting away from the others. He figured he could handle bullies. He had done so with Dudley’s gang his entire life.

Ron eyed him mistrustfully.

“Just because I got sorted into Slytherin doesn’t mean I’m a different person than the one you met on the train,” Harry appealed.

Ron looked down, screwing his mouth shut.

“Ron. Ron please.”

Ron stayed silent, eyes on the ground. 

“I thought we were friends. Or that we could be friends.” 

“I – I don’t know, Harry. Slytherin’s full of dark wizards and pure-blood fanatics like Malfoy…”

“We aren't all like that. Millicent’s mother is a muggle, and you know I’m not Dark.”

Ron paused for a moment, before seeming to make up his mind. Ron looked him in the eye.

“Friends?” he asked.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Friends.”

Harry was sitting at Slytherin table at breakfast on Friday.

“What have we got today?” Harry asked Blaise as he poured sugar on his porridge.

“Double potions with the Gryffindors,” said Blaise. “They say Snape always favors us in classes – I hope it’s true.”

Harry hummed, excited that he would have a class with Ron now that they were friends again.

This morning, Hedwig brought him a letter for the first time. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _ I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._
> 
> _Hagrid_

Harry sent off a reply of _Yes, please, see you later_ before heading to potions, which turned out to be his worst class so far.

Professor Snape seemed to favor Slytherins, just not him specifically. In fact, Snape seemed to _hate_ him.

After picking on Harry with impossible questions, Harry made the mistake of giving him some cheek. He couldn’t believe he lost a point from Slytherin for it! In his first week! From his own house head, no less! Was it because he had chosen to pair with Ron, a Gryffindor?

Harry was glad he had tea with Hagrid to look forward to.

After waving off his Slytherin friends, Harry and Ron went to Hagrid’s hut together.

Inside, Hagrid said “Slytherin, eh?”

“Yeah… Are you upset?” Harry asked nervously.

“Nah, I thought ‘bout it and I reckon ye’ll be a good influence on ‘em.”

Harry was relieved enough that he didn’t bother to address Hagrid’s obvious bias. Harry and Ron told him all about their first lesson, catching up with each other in the process.


	3. Flying and Dueling and Trolls, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a busy week.

The notice was pinned up in the Slytherin common room. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. Harry had been looking forward to flying more than anything else, and now he would get to learn with Ron!

At breakfast, Harry noticed Malfoy watching the Gryffindor table.

A barn owl brought Neville Longbottom a small package. Harry watched as he opened it excitedly and showed the other Gryffindors a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

Harry watched Malfoy get up, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. Smelling trouble, he followed.

As Malfoy passed the Gryffindor table, he snatched the thing out of Neville’s hand. Harry spoke up from behind.

“Give it back.”

Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

“What’s going on?”

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, professor,” Neville told her.

Scowling at Neville, then back at Harry, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

“Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

As the tension passed, Harry grinned at the group.

“Looking forward to flying with you guys, even though I’ll make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

“You don’t know that,” said Ron reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet he’s all talk.”

Blaise made himself known by saying: “Harry, you’ll make a fool of yourself anyway, whether Draco’s there or not.”

Harry scowled while Blaise just smirked, before bidding the Gryffindors goodbye.

The Slytherins were already on the lawns when the Gryffindors arrived.

During the lesson, Neville, ever the accident prone child, broke his wrist. And when Malfoy picked up Neville’s Remembrall, taunted Harry, and got on his broom, what did Harry do? Took the bait, of course. But Harry surprised even himself with his flying skills. It was like he belonged in the air.

A shout of “Catch it if you can, then!” and Harry was pulling into a dive, catching the Remembrall less than half a meter from the ground, before pulling up just in time and tumbling gently onto the grass.

“HARRY POTTER!”

Harry’s heart sank as Professor Snape ran toward them.

“_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts – ”

Professor Snape was almost speechless with shock. “ – how _dare_ you – ”

“But Malfoy – ”

“That’s _enough,_ Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Harry handed the Remembrall off to one of the Gryffindors.

His stomach twisted as he followed Snape through the castle. They stopped in front of a classroom and still the professor didn’t say a word to him. He opened the door and poked his head inside.

“Excuse me, Professor Quirrell, I'm borrowing Flint for a moment.”

A tall, muscular, dark-haired boy with large crooked teeth came out of the classroom.

“Follow me, you two,” Professor Snape ordered, marching them to an empty room.

“Potter, this is Marcus Flint. Flint – I’ve found you a seeker.”

And suddenly Flint was walking around him, staring at him, chattering excitedly.

“I’ll speak to Professor Dumbledore to see if we can’t bend the first year rule. We’ll need a good team this year if we’re to keep up our winning streak.”

Harry was very confused but also very relieved, until Professor Snape peered sternly at Harry.

“Also, Potter?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Five points from Slytherin for rule-breaking.”

Harry’s jaw dropped open. He supposed it was more than fair, though.

At dinner, Malfoy stopped in front of Harry’s seat. “Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?”

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you.” While Crabbe and Goyle were anything but little, they could hardy do anything right there in the Great Hall.

“I’ll take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only – no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

Harry hadn’t, but Malfoy didn’t need to know that.

Theodore Nott caught his eye and subtly shook his head before turning to Malfoy.

“Really, Draco? Challenging him to a duel? Bit brash, if you ask me. Didn’t know you were such a hothead. What would your father think?”

Malfoy spluttered. “Who’s side are you on, anyway?”

“The winning side, obviously,” said Harry.

Malfoy scowled and narrowed his eyes at Harry. “And who said you were the winning side?”

Leaning forward, Harry said, “I know where you sleep.”

“Likewise.”

“Hey now,” Theodore interrupted, “Don’t get our dorm room mixed up in this. I sleep there too, you know.”

Just then, fifth year prefect Terence Higgs came to the table. “What’s going on here?” he asked with an air of faux congeniality. He had a slightly too-cheery manner, and they all heard the warning on the edge of his voice.

“Just congratulating Harry on losing us even more house points,” Malfoy sneered before walking away.

Terence sat down next to Harry and Theodore turned back to his conversation with Daphne Greengrass.

“Hey, congrats on taking my old position on the team, though I’m disappointed in you for losing house points. That’s six points in your first two weeks, by your house head, even. Try to avoid pissing Snape off in the future.”

“I don’t know why Snape hates me,” Harry moaned.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s strict because he wants us to succeed. If he hated you, he wouldn't have brought you to Marcus,” Terence reasoned.

Harry weighed his options. Terence and Gemma were too straight-laced. Blaise always coolly evaded any actual fighting. Millicent preferred physical violence. So in the common room, Harry went to Marcus Flint.

“Hey Potter, what’s up?” Flint asked.

“What is a wizard’s duel?”

Flint raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A wizard’s duel is a proper duel, wands only with no physical contact, between two wizards. They typically only last until one side yields or is otherwise unable to fight. Each wizard has a second who takes over for them if they die,” Flint explained. “… why?”

Harry settled on the truth, while omitting some details. “A bully tried to challenge me to one.”

Flint stared at Harry for a long moment before saying, “I’m not saying do it, but I’ll teach you some defensive spells, along with some jinxes. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Deal.”

“She’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Ron had just come from charms class and was complaining loudly to Harry about having to work with Hermione when she brushed past them in tears, having obviously heard them.

Entering the Great Hall that evening, Harry heard a girl telling another that Hermione was crying, alone, in the bathrooms. Harry frowned, remembering all the times he’d cried alone in his cupboard, but he could hardly go into the _girls_ bathrooms to try to comfort someone he _barely knew._ He put it out of his mind as he sat at the Slytherin table.

…Until a disheveled Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, terror on his face, to tell Dumbledore, “Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know,” before fainting. 

_ This is why Slytherins travel in packs,_ Harry thought to himself.

Harry ducked down and caught Ron in the crowd. “I heard someone say Hermione was crying in the girls bathroom.”

“And?” said Ron, confused as to why Harry thought _now_ was a good time to bring this up.

“She doesn’t know about the troll.”

Ron bit his lip, and Harry cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh all right!” he snapped.

After Harry successfully used the tripping jinx Flint had taught him, Ron knocked the troll out using the very same levitation charm he had learned with Hermione that afternoon. And then the true miracle happened:

_Hermione Granger_ lied to a teacher to cover for them.

Points were taken and given, but from that moment on, the three of them were friends. There are just some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	4. Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slytherin vs. Gryffindor

The day before Harry’s first Quidditch match, he was picking at his breakfast in the Great Hall. When the owls came to deliver the mail as usual, an unusually long, thin package was carried in by six large screech owls. Curious eyes followed it as the owls soared down and, much to his surprise, dropped it right in front of Harry. Another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel directly after.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was fortuitous because it said: 

> ** _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE_ **
> 
> _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one._

The letter was unsigned, but when he looked up, he saw Marcus Flint and Terence Higgs smiling at him knowingly. “Lets go open that before your first class, yeah?”

Blaise gave him a questioning look, but Harry grinned and shook his head.

“It’s a secret.”

Ron caught his eye from across the room as Harry stood up with Terence and Flint.

_Later,_ Harry mouthed.

Halfway across the entrance hall, their way was barred by Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy with them. Malfoy made to seize the package, but Flint blocked him.

“Mind yours, Malfoy,” said Terence, not looking at him but instead purposefully adjusting his prefect badge.

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something, before apparently deciding better of it. He snapped his fingers and Crabbe and Goyle moved out of their way. He glared suspiciously at Harry as he left.

Harry unwrapped his broom in the fifth year boys dorm with Flint and Terence, and the three of them admired it.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and _Nimbus Two Thousand_ written in gold near the top.

His last class of the day was double potions with the Gryffindors. After class, Harry met with Ron and Hermione.

“You guys go on ahead, I’ll be fine,” he assured Blaise, Millicent, and Tracey. “They’re friends.”

“_Seeker?_” Ron said incredulously after he broke the news. “But first years _never_ – you must be the youngest house player in about – ”

“– a century,” Harry finished. “Flint told me.”

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

“But first years aren’t supposed to have broomsticks!” Hermione pointed out.

“I’ve got special permission from Dumbledore,” Harry explained.

Hermione still seemed unsettled about exceptions being made to the rules, but ultimately kept her peace.

Harry made them swear not to tell anyone about it. “I wasn’t even supposed to tell you, but I didn’t want you to be mad at me when you saw me tomorrow."

Harry wished he could walk around the castle by himself freely. After bidding Ron and Hermione goodbye, he saw a Ravenclaw boy approaching him and dodged the trip jinx sent his way.

He quickly cast a shielding charm on himself before bolting.

As he ran, he threw a disarming charm back at the Ravenclaw, yelling “Expelliarmus!” It must have worked because he heard swearing and when he checked again, he was no longer being chased.

The weather had turned very cold as they entered November. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. The verdant lawn of the Quidditch Pitch had dulled with the weather. Three golden goal posts on each side stood fifty feet high, glinting in the bright, cold sun. Hundreds of seats were raised high into the air in stands around the field.

It seemed as though the entire school were in the stands, wearing heavy overcoats, scarves, and hats as they watched the game.

Harry, dressed in emerald Quidditch robes, flexed his fingers in his gloves. He hovered on his broom, breath coming out in puffs of mist as he keenly scanned the stadium for the snitch.

Harry's new broom was fantastic. Fast and agile, it turned wherever he wanted at the slightest touch. Until it didn't.

After they won the game, the Slytherin team swamped Harry. Chaser Adrian Pucey hugged him before the heavily muscled Graham Montague lifted him up while beaters Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole cheered.

Twenty minutes later, Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor team was still howling, “He didn’t _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it!” It was of little consequence though, as Harry hadn’t broken any rules.

When Harry saw Ron and Hermione approaching with grim faces, he excused himself from the commotion and followed them.

Back in Hagrid’s hut, Harry was made a cup of strong tea.

“It was Snape,” Ron was explaining, “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering. He wouldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid, who hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other before turning to Harry with questioning looks.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think he likes me very much, but he _was_ the one who recommended me for the team.”

“So he could curse you!” shouted Ron, who especially seemed to hate Snape.

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again, “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he wouldn't do nothin’ of the sort.”

“There’s something else going on here,” said Hermione, who was tapping her chin looking lost in thought. “Like we’re missing a piece of the puzzle.”

She seemed almost excited at the prospect of a new mystery to solve.

Harry of course got chewed out by his Slytherin friends for not telling them.

“I can’t believe you, Harry!!!” Millicent whined.

“I wanted to surprise you?” he offered.

“Sure but you’re also a gossip, and it was obviously supposed to be a secret.” Blaise said to her.

“Hey!”

“Doesn’t explain why he couldn’t tell me though,” he said sourly, shooting Harry a look.

Harry smiled sheepishly, still enjoying the after-party in the common room despite the complaints of his friends.


	5. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, there be dragons

The library, like everything else in Hogwarts, was grandiose.

Long tables and ornately carved chairs, seated on lengthy red carpets, formed the two main rows that crossed perpendicularly like a plus-sign down the middle of the library, a large, round librarian’s desk in the center. Books could be seen flying like birds from the desk, up to the shelves where they each belonged.

Book-filled shelves lined the walls, stretching all the way from the opulent tile floors up to the grand, moulded ceiling, from which ostentatious chandeliers hung. Spiral staircases led up to polished wooden catwalks and balconies that lined the walls, bordered by elegantly carved railings.

Hundreds of narrow rows were formed by thousands of towering, dark mahogany wood shelves, which were lined by tens of thousands of books on every subject. Ladders moved on their own, carrying students to higher shelves to reach the books they needed.

A roped off restricted section could be found towards the back of the library, while study desks were nestled throughout the labyrinthine library, and Queen Anne style chairs were tucked into quiet, secluded corners in front of large, stained glass windows.

By early December, Tracey had made up with Daphne. Hermione had convinced Ron, Millicent, and Harry to form a study group, and had drawn up study schedules for them. Recruitment of Blaise had been… less than successful.

“Study? Are you serious? No way,” said Blaise. “I think I’ll go hang out with Pansy.”

The four of them sat at a long table in one of the center rows of the library one afternoon. Hermione was helping Millicent color-code her notes when Ron burst out, “I’ll never remember this.”

He threw down his quill, looking longingly out of the library window. It was a really fine day, the sky a clear, forget-me-not blue.

“Blaise had the right idea,” Ron said miserably.

Harry, who was looking up “Dittany” in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,_ didn’t look up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?”

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

“Jus’ lookin’,” he said, in a shifty voice they got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up ter?”

“Studying for mid-year exams,” replied Hermione, “The term’s will be over in almost three weeks and I want to bring good marks home for Christmas.”

“Oh, I reckon’ ye’d bring home good marks, studyin’ er not, Hermione,” said Hagrid, smiling down at her.

“Probably, but we need the help,” Millicent laughed, motion to Ron, Harry, and herself.

“Good luck studyin’ then,” said Hagrid, before leaning in close to them. “Listen – come an’ visit me later, yeah? I’ve got ta go now.”

“Alright, see you later, then,” said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

“What was he hiding behind his back?” said Hermione thoughtfully.

“I’m going see what section he was in,” said Ron, who’d had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

_“Dragons!”_ he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide._”

“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,” said Harry.

“But it’s against our laws,” said Ron.

“Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that,” said Millicent.

“It’s hard to stop muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden,” Ron explained. “Anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.”

“So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?” said Hermione.

They didn’t notice Theodore Nott carefully listening from a nearby aisle.

When the four of them visited Hagrid that evening, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. When they entered, it was stiflingly hot inside, with a blazing fire in the grate.

“Hagrid – what’s _that?_”

But Harry already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black, egg.

Hagrid told them about having won the dragon egg off a stranger by way of a game of cards. They listened as he chattered on about how he could tell that it was a Norwegian ridgeback, and how he’d care for it once it hatched. But he wasn’t listening when Hermione pointed out:

“Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house._”

Then, about a week later, Hedwig brought Harry a note from Hagrid during breakfast time. He had written only two words: _It’s hatching._

Harry, Millicent, Ron, and Hermione ran straight to Hagrid’s hut during morning break. Hagrid was flushed and excited as he ushered them inside.

“It’s nearly out.”

The egg was lying on the table, deep cracks in the obsidian shell. A funny clicking, scraping noise was coming from the dragon that must have been moving around inside.

They watched with bated breath.

All at once, there was a resounding _crack!_ and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table, looking like a slimy, wet, crumpled, black umbrella. It’s spiny, fragile wings were huge compared to it’s tiny, skinny jet body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns, and bulging, shimmering, tangerine eyes.

It sneezed. A couple sparks flew out of its snout.

Hagrid cooed and fawned over the dragon, until he suddenly leapt to his feet and ran to the window, color draining from his face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone was lookin’ through the gap in the curtains – it’s a kid – he’s runnin’ back up ter the school.”

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

“I’ve decided to call him Norbert,” said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. “He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where’s Mommy?”

“He’s lost his marbles,” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

Norbert had grown three times in length in just a week. His slender body was more solid and his frail wings had grown sturdier. Smoke kept furling out of his nostrils. Hagrid hadn’t been doing his game keeping duties because the dragon had been keeping him so busy.

“Hagrid,” said Harry loudly, “give it two weeks and Norbert’s going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment.”

Hagrid bit his lip

“I – I know I can’t keep him forever, but what am I supposed to do?”

After some deliberation –

_ “Just let him go,” Harry urged. “Set him free.”_

_ “I can’t,” said Hagrid. “He’s too little. He’d die.”_

– Harry suddenly turned to Ron.

“Charlie,” he said.

“You’re losing it, too,” said Ron. “I’m Ron, remember?”

“No – Charlie – your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!”

“Brilliant!” said Ron. “How about it, Hagrid?”

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I like libraries?  
Sorry it took me a bit to get this chapter up. Life got... busy. Ew, adulthood. Have a double update as a reward for waiting.
> 
> Also: If you're reading this as it updates, I edited the previous chapter a bit. Nothing that changes the plot any though.


	6. Past Curfew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry breaks the rules.

On Wednesday, they received Charlie’s response. Ron’s hand got bit earlier that day while he was helping feed Norbert, who was eating dead rats by the crate. By Thursday, his hand had swollen to twice it’s usual size and he was forced to go to Madam Pomfrey by the afternoon when the cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert’s fangs were poisonous.

Malfoy came to the hospital wing to laugh at Ron, with the excuse that he wanted to borrow one of Ron’s books. Unfortunately, Ron remembered too late that the letter from Charlie had been in the book he’d given him.

They decided to go through with the plan anyways. It was too late to send another owl, and they agreed that this might be their only chance to get rid of Norbert.

That Saturday night, Harry, Millicent, and Hermione met at Hagrid’s hut past curfew. It was a very dark, cloudy night. After Hagrid had said his good-byes, they carried the crate back to the castle, up the marble staircase in the entrance hall, and along dark corridors. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up another staircase, then another.

Finally, they made their way up the steep spiral staircase to the top of the tallest astronomy tower. Ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. The showed Harry, Hermione, and Millicent the harness they’d rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and thanked the others very much.

At last, Norbert was going… going… _gone._

They slipped back down the staircases, hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. What could spoil their happiness?

They ran into the answer in the corridor. Literally.

“Oof!” said Malfoy as Harry toppled over him. “Get off me, you oaf!”

“What are_ you_ doing here?” hissed Hermione as they got up.

“Catching you!” he crowed. “And now you’ll get in trouble now that I have,” he gloated.

“You’ll get in trouble for being out, too, you idiot!” said Hermione.

Malfoy hesitated, but before he could respond, they were interrupted by a meow.

Mrs. Norris.

They heard the voice of Filch from further down the hall. “What is it, my sweet? Students breaking curfew, perhaps?”

_“RUN!”_ Harry hissed.

They galloped down one corridor and another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it, and came out near their charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the astronomy towers.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Millicent was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

“We’ve got – to get back – to our common rooms,” Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, “quickly – as possible.” 

They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Malfoy, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

Hermione tapped the lock with her wand and whispered, _"Alohomora!"_

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go ?_"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right – _please._"

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – get _off_, Millie!" For Millicent had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. _"What ?"_

Harry turned around – and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward – Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster.

When they reached the staircases, Hermione ran up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower with a whisper of _“See you tomorrow.”_

Harry, Millicent, and Malfoy ran down to the dungeons without further incident, Malfoy remaining blessedly silent.

Millicent whispered _“Giant Squid,”_ and rushed inside as soon as the concealed door slid open. Harry bumped into Millicent and Malfoy bumped into him as Millicent suddenly halted. He tried to peer around her to see why she had done so, but froze as he heard a familiar voice.

“Well, well, well,” said Professor Snape’s drawling voice, “we _are_ in trouble.”

Harry, Millicent and Malfoy were sat down in chairs in the otherwise empty common room, and Snape stood before them. Millicent was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harry’s brain, but they were cornered. There was no reason on earth that Professor Snape would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night.

Snape looked absolutely murderous.

“It is one o’clock in the morning. Explain yourselves.”

“Potter had a dragon!”

Harry and Millicent whipped their heads around, shooting Malfoy venomous looks, but Professor Snape looked less than impressed. He raised a single eyebrow “And where is this dragon now?” he asked.

“Wh–! I – I…” Malfoy stammered, eyebrows drawing together and glaring viciously at Harry and Millicent.

Snape shook his head. "Are any of you hurt?"

Harry, shocked that the professor would care enough to ask, turned to Millicent.

"N-no, sir," she spoke up.

He eyed them scutinizingly before apparently deciding she was telling the truth.

“Then I really don’t care where you were. Twenty five points from Slytherin for sneaking around past curfew.”

“But – ” started Malfoy.

“Each.”

Malfoy paled briefly before puffing up again.

“My father will – ”

“Be very interested to know that you’ve gotten detention, I’m sure.” Snape interrupted, narrowing his eyes.

Malfoy spluttered for a moment before going silent in horror.

“Detention…?” he said weakly.

“For all three of you.”

“Professor – !” exclaimed Millicent, with unshed tears gathering in her eyes.

“Do. Not. Talk. Back.”

The professor pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed.

“Now, go to bed,” he said in a clear dismissal.

Malfoy’s face was screwed up like he had sucked on a lemon, and he refused to even look in Harry’s direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the double update. I was originally gonna save it and post it later to give you guys a more stable updating schedule, but I'm #weak


	7. Revelations and a Joyful Yule

The following day, Slytherin students passing the giant hourglass that recorded the house points thought there’d been a mistake. How had they suddenly lost 75 points, falling behind Gryffindor? And then the story started to spread: the famous Harry Potter, along with two other stupid first years, had lost them the points.

Slytherin classmates didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. People from the other three houses in the school, who had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup, congratulated him, shouting things like “Keep up the good work!”

Blaise gave him and Millicent the cold shoulder, choosing to keep his social status safe by falling in with Pansy and her more popular group instead. Millicent took this particularly hard, and became much more agitated and belligerent as a result.

Even Malfoy had become an outcast. While Crabbe and Goyle walked with him between classes, they no longer interacted with him, choosing instead to keep company with Theodore Nott in places like the common room and the Great Hall. On the upside, Malfoy had been avoiding Harry and his friends like the plague.

They caught Ron up on the events of the night before and Harry told them about having gotten detention.

“At least you weren’t expelled,” said Hermione.

“Never mind that,” said Ron. “What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?”

“Well…” said Hermione, looking at Harry and Millicent. “Did you see what it was standing on?”

They looked at each other.

“Um… the floor?”

“No, _not_ the floor. You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “ It was standing on a trap door. It’s obviously guarding something.”

The dog was guarding something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except perhaps Hogwarts.

“The package,” said Harry immediately. “The package from vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

As Harry told his friends about the day Hagrid had taken him to Gringotts, Ron interrupted him. “There was a Gringotts break-in this summer! Do you think they could have been after whatever it was?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon speculating on what it could be.

“It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron.

“Or both,” said Harry.

All they knew was that the mysterious object was about five centimeters long and that they didn’t stand a chance of guessing what it might be without further clues.

The next time Harry saw Professor Snape, something clicked, and he hurried to gather Millicent, Hermione, and Ron.

“Do you remember Halloween? With the troll?” he asked breathlessly.

“How could we forget?” said Ron.

“Remember how Snape was limping afterwards because of that injury he had on his leg?”

“I definitely remember his awful mood.”

“I think he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween and it bit him! And I’d bet my broomstick _he_ let the troll in, to make a diversion!”

“No – he wouldn’t,” protested Millicent. But Hermione’s eyes were wide.

“_That’s_ why he was cursing your broom during the Quidditch match! You saw his leg when you went to get your book back, remember?”

“Wait, what?” Millicent asked confusedly.

Harry explained the incident of the professor confiscating his library book, and his subsequent witnessing of Filch helping Snape bandage his leg when he went to retrieve it. The Quidditch match had been the very next day.

“But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”

“We’ve got to tell someone,” said Hermione.

They decided to tell Hagrid, as he had been the one Dumbledore had trusted to retrieve the package from vault seven hundred and thirteen.

In the end, Hagrid fervently denied Professor Snape’s involvement, but made one crucial slip-up.

“Yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel – ”

After mid-year exams, Harry said good-bye to Millicent and Hermione, as they were both going home for the holidays. Harry had signed up to stay the holidays at Hogwarts, not at at all feeling sorry that he’d not be spending it with the Dursleys. He thought it might end up being the best Christmas he’d ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying for the holidays because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

They promised to keep searching the library books for any mention of Nicolas Flamel while the girls were away, and swore to send them both owls if they found anything.

Harry and Ron had a grand time when the holidays started. Ron had started teaching him wizard chess, which was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive. Harry wasn’t a very good player yet and his pieces kept shouting different bits of advice, which was confusing.

Blaise hadn’t gone home for the holidays either, as his mother was in France with a new boyfriend, and Harry was tentatively able to hang out with him. Blaise had supposed that he wouldn’t be risking his social standing too much if they only hung out in Slytherin Dungeon, which, like the rest of the school, was far emptier than usual. Ron said Blaise wasn’t a true friend and only liked Harry when it was convenient, but Harry felt bad, thinking Blaise must be lonely with everyone else gone.

Harry learned that most Wizarding families celebrated Yule, not Christmas, though the two were practically interchangeable in terms of how they were celebrated.

On the eve of the solstice, the Yule Log, a great oak log, was lit in the center of the Great Hall with a branch from the previous year’s log. Harry went to bed that night looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, and was very surprised to find presents addressed to him at the end of his bed when he woke up.

“Happy Yule,” said Blaise sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

“You too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!”

“What did you expect, turnips?” said Blaise, turning to his own, much larger pile.

Harry was delighted by the roughly cut wooden flute that Hagrid had obviously whittled himself. It sounded like an owl. Harry had also been sent a box of homemade fudge and a thick, handmade sweater from Mrs. Weasley. The sweater was emerald green and very soft and Harry pulled it on at once.

He opened a large box of chocolate frogs from Hermione and a box of homemade cookies from Millicent that her mother had made. It turned out Millicent’s mother owned a muggle bakery.

He felt bad for not having gotten anything for his friends, but this was forgotten as he opened his last present. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Blaise gasped. 

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the luxurious cashmere sweater his mother had sent him. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare, and really valuable. "

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. 

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Blaise, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Blaise gave a yell. 

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely. 

"There's a note!" said Blaise suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: 

>   
_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.   
Use it well.   
A Very Joyful Yuletide to you. _

  
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note.

“What's the matter?" said Blaise.

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

In the Great Hall, students were sitting at whatever table they wanted, regardless of house. Blaise still refused to sit with Harry outside of Slytherin Dungeon, though. Harry went to the Gryffindor table and was greeted by Ron and his brothers.

The twins were wearing matching blue sweaters, one with a large yellow _F_ on it, one with a _G_. Ron had a maroon sweater and Percy had a lumpy sweater with a _P_ on it.

“Hey, look – Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!”

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, tugging on Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family.”

Harry had never in all his life had such a holiday feast. Fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. Harry pulled one of these party favors with Fred and it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice.

Flaming puddings followed the turkey and when Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the Great Hall, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron.  


It had been Harry's best holiday ever.


	8. The Mirror of Erised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sneaks out past curfew.

It had been Harry’s best holiday ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever sent it.

Pulling out the cloak from under his bed, he felt the material under his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. His father’s… this had been his father’s. _Use it well,_ the note had said.

He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only light and shadows. Suddenly, harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, and across the common room.

He slipped out the hidden door and walked quickly down the corridor. Where should he go? He stopped, heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as it it was floating along in mid-air as he took it to the restricted section at the back of the library and bent down low to step carefully under the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library.

Many of the books had peeling, faded gold letters spelling words in languages Harry couldn’t understand. Some had no title at all. One even had a dark stain on it the looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he thought he heard a faint whispering coming from a few of the books.

He pulled out a large black and silver book from the bottom shelf and balanced it on his knee. As he let the book fall open, a piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming! Even when he snapped the book shut, the shriek went on in a high, unbroken, earsplitting tone. He heard footsteps on the tile floor of the library and shoved the book back onto the shelf. Panicked, he stumbled and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once.

Harry, wrapped tightly in his invisibility cloak, streaked past Filch and down the corridor. By the dungeons, he nearly ran into Snape, and ducked through a door to his left at the last moment. After the professor walked past, Harry breathed deeply, leaning against the wall.

He looked around the room he was hidden in. It looked like an unused classroom, but propped up against the wall, as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way, was a magnificent mirror. It was as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _

He startled when he saw at least ten other people in the mirror and whipped around, but there was no one there. He looked back at the mirror. Just behind him was a pretty woman with dark red hair and the same bright green eyes as his, and a tall, thin man with an arm around her. He wore glasses and had untidy black hair, which stuck up in back, just as Harry’s did.

Other noses like his, other skin tones like his, others with dark, unruly hair like his, even a little old man with the same knobbly knees as his. It occurred to Harry that he was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn’t know. He looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. “I’ll come back” he whispered, before returning to bed.

Harry couldn’t eat. He had seen his parents and would go see them again tonight. Who cared about Flamel and whatever the three headed dog was guarding?

He brought Ron with him that night, but Ron didn’t see his family.

“I’m alone – but I’m different – I look older – and I’m head boy!”

_“What?”_

“I am – I’m wearing the badge like Bill used to – and I’m holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup – I’m Quidditch captain, too!”

The boys argued over who would look into the mirror until a sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn’t realized how loudly they had been talking.

“Quick!”

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry left the room after she departed, unsure whether she would bring back Filch.

Harry didn’t want to play chess, or visit Hagrid. Ron urged him not to go back to the mirror, saying he had a “bad feeling about it.”

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn’t going to stop him.

“So – back again, Harry?”

Harry’s insides turned to ice as he turned around and saw Albus Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror that he hadn’t noticed him.

Harry was relieved that the headmaster was smiling.

“So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on with floor with Harry. “You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”

“But I expect by now you’ve realized what it does?”

“It – well – it shows me my family – ”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, “It shows us what we want…”

“Yes and no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they’ve seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

“The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember.”

He stood and helped Harry to his feet.

“Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”

“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”

Harry stared.

“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People insist on giving me books. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed.”

It struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, it had been quite a personal question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I've updated, and I won't disrespect you by making excuses, but hopefully I can offer some sort of explanation. I have manic-depressive disorder. When I started this fic, I was in a manic episode, which is why I posted a whole bunch of chapters one after another. Then I went through a depressive episode, so I didn't update at all. I'm climbing out of that now, but it will likely happen again. However, I can promise you, I will never abandon this fic, no matter how long I go between chapters. Thank you for reading. I probably won't update again till 10/26.


	9. The Forbidden Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry serves detention.

Two days later, on Christmas, Harry woke up to another present by his bed. His Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had taped a Fifty-pence to a bland note that didn’t even wish him a Merry Christmas. He threw it in his trunk and didn’t think about it again.

The students and staff of Hogwarts celebrated New Years Eve with a party in the Great Hall, where they extinguished the Yule Log fire at midnight. The following morning, the ashes of the log were collected to be used in potions, fertilizers, and divination tools. The rest of the student body, along with the few professors who had taken holiday, returned the day after New Years, taking the weekend to unpack their things and catch up with their friends. Blaise, of course, immediately went back to avoiding them.

Millicent and Hermione were torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row (“If Filch had caught you!”), and disappointment that he hadn’t at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

On Monday morning, classes resumed with a fervor. The workload picked up, as did the intensity of Quidditch practice. On Friday, notes were delivered to Harry, Millicent, and Malfoy at the breakfast table.

> Your detention will take place at 11 o’clock tonight.
> 
> Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
> 
> _Professor S. Snape_

That night at eleven o’clock, they followed Filch outside and down to Hagrid’s hut. As Filch maliciously taunted them about serving their detention in the forbidden forest, Malfoy began to look panicked. After Filch departed with ominous words, Malfoy turned to Hagrid.

“I am _not_ going into the forest.”

Malfoy ultimately went into the forest, as Hagrid had pointed out that he’d be expelled if he refused to serve detention.

Hagrid showed them the silvery, opalescent unicorn blood and they split into two parties to look for the injured unicorn. Malfoy demanded Fang, glancing at his large teeth, and Hagrid send Millicent with them. They were to send up green sparks if they found the unicorn, and red sparks if they were in trouble.

Harry followed Hagrid down the path, where they met a centaur who Hagrid introduced as Ronan.

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan remarked.

“There’s a unicorn bin hurt, you seen anythin’?” asked Hagrid.

Ronan looked to the sky.

“Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

After trying to ask again, Ronan repeated his earlier sentiment, “Mars is bright tonight. Unusually so.”

When Bane appeared, Hagrid turned to question him on the injured unicorn. He stared at Hagrid for a long moment.

“Mars is bright tonight,” he said.

They left and Hagrid lamented that while centaurs knew many things, you’d never get a straight answer from one.

Suddenly, they saw red sparks shoot into the air as they passed a bend in the path. Hagrid and Harry crashed through the underbrush to find Millicent screeching at Malfoy, fists clenched, as Malfoy stared up at her from the ground, clutching at the left side of his face. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Millicent and grabbed her as a joke. Millicent had panicked and sent up the sparks.

Hagrid was fuming as they changed groups. Millicent clung to him as he sent Harry with Malfoy and Fang.

“I’m sorry,” said Hagrid in a whisper to Harry, “but he’ll have a harder time frightenin’ you, an’ we’ve gotta get this done.”

Harry set off down the path with Fang and Malfoy in tow. Malfoy's face was already purpling in what would surely become a nasty black eye and he kept blessedly quiet as they walked. As the trees got thicker, so did the blood.

Finally, they found the gleaming, bright white unicorn, beautiful but sadly very dead. Harry started towards it, but stopped when he heard a rustling in the underbrush. The three of them stood, transfixed, as a cloaked figure crawled across the ground like some stalking beast.

As it began to drink the blood of the unicorn, Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted – so did fang.

The figure looked at Harry, shimmering unicorn blood dripping down its front, and as it began to approach, Harry felt a searing pain burning in his scar.

He was rescued by a centaur with white-blond hair and palomino body, younger than the other two harry had seen. The centaur introduced himself as Firenze.

As Firenze carried Harry on his back, Harry asked about the cloaked figure.

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

It was like an iron fist suddenly clenched around Harry’s heart as he realized who Firenze was alluding to. The wizard who had killed his parents. The one who gave him his scar, which had burned so viciously mere moments ago. Voldemort.

Before they reached Hagrid, they were intercepted by Bane and Ronan. Firenze had a fierce argument with Bane, before taking Harry back to Hagrid.

Back at the dorms, Harry couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that horrible figure from the forest. If the whimpers and shifting coming from the Malfoy’s bed were any indication, the other boy was faring no better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Folks!! I hope y’all had a good Samhain. I’ve planned out into the series a bit more, so I went back and made some changes to a few of the past chapters so as to plant the seeds of future plot developments.


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